
The Unwanted Wife And Her Secret Empire
I opened my eyes to a tearing pain and an unfamiliar ceiling, lying next to the most powerful man in the capital.
Foreign memories crashed into my mind. I had transmigrated into the body of Irena Frost, a woman who had just drugged and trapped the cold, ruthless heir Evertt Barton into a scandalous marriage.
The original owner did it to escape being sold to a murderous old merchant by her own cruel father. But Evertt didn't know that. When he woke up, his eyes were full of absolute disgust. He threw a prenuptial agreement at my face, demanding a quiet divorce in two years and warning me not to use a pregnancy to blackmail his family. Everyone in the estate treated me like a greedy, pathetic joke, just waiting for the day I would be thrown out onto the streets.
The original Irena had died in despair, terrified and hated by the man she chose as her only shield. I felt a deep ache for the girl who had to ruin her own reputation just to survive. I absolutely refused to let this second chance be dictated by a man who despised me.
I looked right into Evertt's icy eyes and demanded an astronomical divorce settlement to play his perfect wife.
"Deal. I consider it a job."
With millions wired to my account and a magical spatial ring from my past life suddenly awakening on my finger, I stopped crying. I was going to use his money to build a massive commercial empire in secret, and when the two years were up, I would leave without looking back.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 7
Irena walked into her guest bedroom and pushed the door shut. She turned the brass lock until it clicked into place. She let out a long breath. The muscles in her shoulders finally relaxed. Dealing with Jada and Evertt was exhausting.
She walked over to the large vanity mirror. As she opened the top drawer of the vanity, something caught her eye.
Pushed far into the back corner of the drawer was a small, dark red velvet box.
Irena frowned. She reached in and pulled the box out. The velvet was worn at the edges. The memory of its origin surfaced in her mind. A week before the wedding, the original Irena had wandered into a dusty antique shop while trying to plan her escape. She had bought this ring for a few copper coins because it looked strangely familiar, then tossed it into the drawer and forgot about it. She opened the lid.
Inside, resting on black satin, was a ring. It was made of dull silver, holding a smooth, black obsidian stone. The silver band was carved with strange, ancient patterns.
Irena's heart stopped beating for a full second. Her pupils dilated. She knew this ring.
It was her grandmother's ring from her past life. It was a family heirloom she had worn every day before she died and woke up in this novel.
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up. The metal felt ice-cold against her skin. The weight of it was exactly as she remembered. This was not a copy. This was her ring. It had crossed space and time with her soul.
In her past life, it was just an old piece of jewelry. But in this world, things were different. A wild, impossible idea sparked in her brain.
She walked quickly to the writing desk. She picked up a sharp metal letter opener. She did not hesitate. She pressed the sharp edge against the tip of her left index finger and sliced.
A sharp sting shot through her hand. A drop of bright red blood welled up from the cut.
She held the ring under her finger and let the drop of blood fall onto the black obsidian stone.
The blood did not roll off. The stone absorbed the red liquid instantly. A faint, pulsing red light glowed from inside the black rock.
Suddenly, the room spun. Irena felt a violent pull behind her navel. Her vision went completely black.
When she opened her eyes again, she was not in the bedroom.
She was standing in an endless space. The ground beneath her feet felt solid, but it looked like gray glass. The air was perfectly still. It was neither hot nor cold. A thick, gray mist formed walls in the distance, creating an area roughly the size of a massive football stadium.
Irena gasped. The sound echoed slightly. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on her physical body.
Instantly, the gray space vanished. She was back in the bedroom, standing by the desk. The cut on her finger had stopped bleeding.
She looked down at the ring. Her chest heaved as she dragged air into her lungs. A massive wave of pure, unfiltered joy crashed over her.
It was a spatial storage ring. In a world without modern shipping containers or refrigerated warehouses, this was the ultimate cheat code.
She needed to test the physical limits. She picked up a heavy bronze paperweight from the desk. She held it in her hand and thought the word store.
The bronze weight vanished from her palm.
She closed her eyes and looked into the ring's space. The paperweight was sitting on the gray glass floor.
She thought the word retrieve.
The heavy metal instantly reappeared in her hand, the weight pulling her arm down slightly.
Irena started pacing across the bedroom carpet. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. She tested everything. She stored books, teacups, and even a heavy wooden chair. Everything vanished and reappeared perfectly.
She realized something else. The cup of tea she had left on the table yesterday was still steaming hot when she pulled it out. Time inside the space was completely frozen.
Food would never rot. Ice would never melt.
Irena walked over to the large window. She looked out at the sprawling Barton estate. Her eyes burned with ambition.
With this ring, she did not need to rent expensive warehouses. She did not need to hire transport wagons that Evertt's men could track. She could move massive amounts of goods completely undetected. She could build her capital in secret.
The two-year plan she had written in her notebook was suddenly too slow. She could do it in six months.
She slid the silver ring onto the pinky finger of her left hand. The dark stone looked striking against her pale skin.
She turned away from the window and walked to the massive oak closet. She pushed aside the expensive, flashy dresses. She found a simple, dark navy wool dress. It was plain and unnoticeable.
She pulled the dress off the hanger. She was not going to sit in this room anymore. She was going to the capital's commercial district today. It was time to start building her empire.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like

9.3
For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future.
Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city."
Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed.
The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence.
Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life."

8.0
My wedding was tomorrow. I was a crisis counselor who had finally found peace with my loving fiancé, Dexter, and my best friend, Barbara.
A late-night call about a forced marriage led me to a hotel penthouse, where I found them naked in bed together.
It was all a cruel, three-year "savior game." They were bored heirs, and I was their project. They destroyed my career, caused me to lose our baby, and put my mother in the hospital.
They forced me to be a bridesmaid at their wedding-the one that should have been mine.
In front of hundreds of guests, they exposed my traumatic past and then tried to marry me off to a drunken stranger as a joke.
As I stood there, broken, a text from Barbara arrived.
"Your mother saw the livestream. She had a heart attack. She's not going to make it."
With nothing left, I ran to the 20th-floor window and jumped. They thought they had erased me. But my death was just the beginning.

7.5
To survive a lethal genetic breakdown, Holden, a legendary mercenary known as "Ghost," was forced into an arranged marriage with the wealthy heiress Julia Ramsey.
But the moment he stepped into the lavish estate wearing an oil-stained jacket, he was treated like absolute garbage.
Julia accused him of being a perverted stalker, pulling a gun on him and demanding he be thrown out. Even after Holden used a forbidden kinetic strike to save her grandfather from a fatal heart attack, the family still looked at him with pure disgust. Julia confined him to a cramped guest room, warning him to stay out of her life. To make matters worse, his other estranged fiancée, an elite military commander, barged into the penthouse just to throw an annulment in his face.
"You are a pathetic, bottom-feeding parasite! You have no ambition. You hide in this woman's apartment like a stray dog. You are entirely beneath me."
She mocked him in front of Julia, completely blind to the fact that Holden had just effortlessly incapacitated her Tier-1 operative with a single strike. They all thought he was just a greedy, low-class thug clinging to their wealth. They had no idea they were mocking an apex predator who commanded the city's underground and hunted mutant monsters for sport.
When Julia forced him to attend a high-society yacht party as part of a trap to publicly humiliate him, Holden just smirked and took a sip of his cheap beer.
He was more than happy to play along, already calculating exactly how he was going to tear their arrogant little world apart.

8.2
My son Leo had just died, and the silence in our cramped apartment felt like a physical weight crushing my chest.
Before I could even process the grief, my husband, Preston, kicked the door open and threw divorce papers onto the table.
Behind him stood Gloria, wearing a pristine cashmere coat and the diamond pendant Preston swore he had pawned to pay for Leo's hospital bills.
"Sign it," Preston said coldly. "You get nothing."
Gloria smirked, mocking me for failing to keep my sick child alive. When I tore up the papers in a blinding rage, Preston slapped me to the floor.
Then, my biological mother, Jerilyn, walked in. Instead of helping me, she pulled a serrated kitchen knife from her bag and plunged it deep into my stomach.
As I lay dying in a pool of my own blood, Jerilyn leaned in and whispered the devastating truth.
"I swapped you in the nursery. Gloria is my blood, and you belong in a Manhattan mansion. I can't let you ruin her life."
Until my lungs stopped working, I was consumed by a roaring, violent hatred. My own mother had traded my life of privilege for poverty, let my son die, and then murdered me to protect the fake.
Opening my eyes again, the dingy ceiling and the agonizing pain were gone.
I was sitting at a wooden desk, surrounded by the chatter of teenagers.
I was back in high school. And this time, I was going to make them pay.

9.6
I was the dedicated, "wolfless" Luna of the Blackwood Pack, bound to Alpha Damien for seven years.
Just three days before our marriage contract expired, Damien burst into my clinic carrying his mistress, Allena.
He used his Alpha Command to clear the room, humiliating me in front of my own medical staff.
The ultrasound revealed Allena was suffering from internal bleeding due to their uncontrolled mating frenzy.
Instead of feeling shame for his weakness, Damien shoved me brutally against a metal counter to protect her.
He threw a $100,000 check at me to buy my silence, treating my broken soul like a cheap transaction.
Later, when I refused to kneel and apologize to his mistress, he pushed me again, shattering my arm against a glass table.
As my blood soaked the pristine white rug, he stood over me, demanding my absolute submission.
He thought I was just a pathetic, weak Omega who would endure his cruelty forever because I had nothing else.
He didn't know that five years ago, after he threatened to kill any pup I bore him, I secretly built a massive offshore empire.
I calmly tied a tourniquet over my bleeding arm and wiped my blood right over his heart.
"I am done with you."
Then I liquidated his thirty-five-million-dollar penthouse assets and walked out into the night, ready to show him who the real monster was.

8.2
Casey woke up with a throbbing skull in a glamorous dressing room, facing a public execution by an internet mob.
Her wealthy family had thrown her away. Her hypocritical sister, Coralie, forced a holographic tablet into her hands, demanding she join a deadly survival reality show on a wasteland planet.
"It's what Mommy wants. If you don't sign, you're dead to the Hendersons."
The whole world wanted her dead. On the live broadcast, billions of viewers cursed her as a toxic stalker. The golden boy idol Kayson physically attacked her to defend Coralie's honor. Even the show's staff mocked her, deliberately leaving her with nothing but a torn, broken tent and a single bottle of water for the lethal alien wilderness.
The universe was playing a cruel joke on her. She was framed as the villain of her sister's perfect story, banished to a wasteland where everyone expected her to cry, beg, and die on live television.
But they didn't know she had already survived a decade in the ruins. Casey didn't shed a single tear. Instead, she invoked a hidden contract clause, demanding a full year on the planet instead of the standard month.
"I'll survive for a year, and the planet becomes mine."
She grabbed her broken tent, stepped onto the red alien dirt, and prepared to show the universe what a real predator looked like.